Page 24 of Stolen Union

Gabriella

“You didn’t have to blindfold me again,” I say once we reach the cabin. I shove the blindfold in his hands, desperate to get away from it.

“I still can’t trust you not to tell your brothers where you are.”

“Then when?” I ask as we leave the van and head back to the cabin. “We’re married, Dante. You have to trust me at some point.”

“A marriage license won’t prevent a bullet going into my head. We need to give it time. I’ll be able to trust you when you start to trust me.” He walks inside and sits at the kitchen table.

“But how can I trust you if you don’t trust me?”

He shrugs. “I guess we’re in a conundrum, then, aren’t we?”

I sigh and sit down across from him. “There’s one simple way for us to start trusting each other.”

“Which is?”

“We talk.”

He stares at me a moment before laughing. “Talk?”

“Yes, talk. You know how to talk. It’s a thing people do when they open their mouths and sound comes out.”

“I know what talking is, Gabriella.”

“Oh, good. Then you should have no problem doing it.”

He leans back in his seat, eyeing me over. It only makes me think about what we just did back in the store. I can’t believe he went down on me, and I let him. And I went down on him. The worst part—I enjoyed every second of it.

“Fine,” he eventually says. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Our childhoods.”

He snorts.

“What?” I ask. “What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing. It’s just … cliché, I guess? We’re just supposed to talk about our childhoods and then … what? We’ll trust each other?”

“I was hoping. That’s why I suggested it.”

He motions at me. “Fine. Talk away. Tell me all the horrible things you went through as a kid.”

“Why do you make it sound like I’ve never experienced anything horrible?” I say, crossing my arms.

“I just assumed you haven’t as the Mafia princess you are. Hardship doesn’t usually come to women like you.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter.

“What?”

“I’ve been through hardship, Dante. Need I remind you that you kidnapped me. Twice.”

He smirks. Smirks! How does he have the audacity to sit there and pretend he hasn’t done anything wrong? “I mean, besides me. What other hardships have you been through?”

“I lost my mom,” I blurt out. That wasn’t what I had in mind to talk about, but it’s what comes out.

Dante shifts in his seat, looking at me with softer eyes. “I remember hearing about that. There were rumors your father killed her.”

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